by R J Sutherland
I am in the fetal position, gently being rocked to sleep inside my mother; a wooden womb. Instead of a heart-beat, a rhythmic creaking and the gentle slaps of the embryonic fluid of this Earth is what helps me to drift off, as this small and aging trawler is being guided to its destination. We are on our way to a Whiting field that is so dense the water at times takes on a silver shimmer as the fish dart in perfect formation beneath the surface of the world.
My Uncle has spent the majority of his life on this boat but this is the last time I will ever fall into the comforting sleep of her stomach. He has sold her to Sushi Fisherman and I have no idea when I will ever get to ride on the comfort of water again.
Water is everything. There is no ocean without it; there is no rain, no sea life, no plants, no animals, no us!
Water is everything, and now my Mother has been sold. She has been taken from me, and I have no idea if I will ever get to feel the gentle embrace of the womb again.
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